


There is a Sky

by spacego



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: ACWNR, M/M, Spoilers, ch.84/85, hyperbolic angsting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-04
Updated: 2016-10-04
Packaged: 2018-08-19 11:57:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8206069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacego/pseuds/spacego
Summary: Always late to the party, but I need to vent, even if it's trash. ......





	

**Author's Note:**

> Always late to the party, but I need to vent, even if it's trash.
> 
>  
> 
> ......

 

Sometimes, when he felt like skipping work and playing truant, he would walk the streets Underground, tracing back the paths he used to walk--even more dangerous now than ever before. Then he would stop at a certain spot, go on one knee and pretend to tie his shoelaces.

He would watch distorted shadows dance across the murky ever-present puddle in front of him, and imagined a time when he saw white breeches knelt within it.

_Here was the place where our eyes first met._

 

 

Sometimes, he would go to the back pasture, no longer as green and as serene as it was many years ago. Had it really been that long, he would wonder. The grass wasn't so green now, and the sun even more unrelenting.

Back then, everything was new. The grass smelled new even though it's dying in the sun. The sun felt new, even though it's been around longer than the oldest human to ever die. Back then he had flown like he had just discovered wings he never knew he had.

Excited for the unknown. He had been so fucking excited about unknowns back then. So fucking eager for every new discovery. Now he was just weary.

_Here was the place where he stood and watched me take my first flight under the sky._

 

 

Sometimes, he would push open the door to a room no one else dared claim. He would stand there, under the eaves of the open door where there was a line. He would stand there, just by the edge of it--a neat border of dust that where swept corridor ended and undusted room began.

He would stand there and gaze into a room that held none of the life he had seen before. Left with only dust that made him itch to clean, and grime that made his hands ache to wipe away.

But there's an odd sort of symmetry to how evenly the dust had covered the floor. There was a uniform sort of desolation that stopped people from stepping in and sullying it.

If he closed his eyes, he could say that it was just virgin driven snow at the height of winter, at dawn after a blizzard.

_Here was the place where I first lost my heart to you._

 

  
The door closed not too kindly to his mind and the hall echoed badly with the sound of it. Once the echo subsided, sounds from the outside filtered in and took residence in his mind. The door was in front of him, so close, he could press the tip of his nose to it. He could rest his forehead on the scratchy wood in front of him, as he did once before. That time.

If he closed his eyes, he could hear himself knock on the door and hear the ghost of a man inviting him in. He had done it many times before. Maybe if he were kinder, maybe if he were harsher. Maybe if he were less of a headcase. Maybe if they had more time to lark around in bed, to just talk and stop at a grope, or exchange hopes like peaceful idiots. Maybe if they're not fighting a fucking war. Maybe... So many of them. 

Last time, he had pushed the door open and stepped inside.

_Here was the place where I said good bye to you._

 

 

He hated that he had made promises, despite himself. He hated that his instinct to live overrode his dying heart with efficient finality. He hated that he loved the sky so much. Maybe he even loved the sky more than the person now waiting for him in hell.

One day he would find it, the last titan, and he would rejoice chopping it to bits. One for every tear he had foolishly shed. One for every dream he had foolishly made. Maybe he would let it eat him and he would cut his way out from the inside, bathing in entrails and blood. He imagined it to be a grotesque parody of being reborn as vapor and just disappear.

One day he would see it, the last human coming out of the wall, walking to the welcoming sea. One day he would see the wall come down like a useless discarded dream.

Then, maybe, one day, a long way into the future, he would look at the sky and remember why he loved it so much. One day, when all was said and all was done, he would allow himself to be maudlin and say it out loud: the sky was the color of his beloved's eyes. The one who would forgive him for things he could not forgive himself for. This he knew. This he would say.

_There is the sky that welcomes me home._

 

 

 


End file.
